You
by whenstarsdie
Summary: "Tonight might be your last night alive and that's the only thing on your mind? Do I love you?" Draco thought he had always known the right answer to the question "Do you love me?". However, Hermione challenges his thoughts the way she always had. Does he love her? Draco was not so sure how he could best give her an answer... Oneshot.


You

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**Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter universe still belongs to the ever-amazing J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. I (sadly) own nothing but this plot.

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"Do you love me?"

"Of course," had been his reply, without as much as a second of hesitation. He did not need to consider his feelings to answer that question. That was what girls liked to hear anyway, wasn't it? Foolish things they were – girls. He lazily patted the blonde head of the girl in his arms, feeling her smile against the thin fabric covering his chest as she snuggled closer in his embrace.

"Oh, Draco…"

He smirked at the muffled voice, feeling her breath brushing against his exposed skin, the warmth of her body pressing gently against his. He could, no, he _would_ lie about his true feelings to have this warm blanket of love wrapping around him.

That was what his father had taught him. The main purpose of a relationship was to keep both parties satisfied. There was no such thing as love. With those two simple words, she was happy and he would have her around him. What harm was there in lying.

And she would remain happy until she found out that he had told three other girls that he loved them too. Then she would leave, in tears, and he could drown himself in the affection the other girls were more than willing to surround him with. If he was lucky he would find yet another girl who would exchange her judgement for his blind confessions of love. And these girls would always come and go, come and go. All of them were the same.

Foolish things they were – girls.

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"Do you love me?"

A familiar arrogant smirk graced his angelic features. Draco raised his head with a small laugh, "Of-"

There was something about her that made those words die at the tip of his tongue, his smirk dissolving into a confused frown.

_It couldn't be those eyes._ He had seen the same teary eyes over and over again.

_Perhaps it was the drawn wand._ But countless other girls had pointed their wands and hexed him senseless before.

_The dirt-smudged face and the bloody robes, then?_ No, he had seen the toil of war on people so regrettably often that they no longer stirred anything within him.

Yet, there was something about her that made him lower his wand and tuck it back into his robes. Folding his arms across his heaving chest, the smirk found its way home. "Why do you ask, Granger?"

She laughed, cold and unfeeling, sending shivers down his spine and caused alarm bells to scream relentlessly in his head. "Well, do you?" she repeated, a small crooked smile on her lips.

He could not help but return the smile, more genuine than hers. There was something in her smile that always reminded him of how his mother would kiss him goodnight when he was much younger. It made him feel safe despite the distinct sounds of death and destruction on the other side of the walls of the Great Hall.

He stepped closer towards her, and she did nothing but tighten her grip on her wand, not flinching, not backing away. He quirked a brow in amusement; she never failed to surprise him.

"Of course I love you," his shoes clinked gently on the stone floor, coming to a halt right in front of her.

Draco felt a stinging sensation on his cheek and his brain registered it as a slap. "No one ever slaps me, Granger," he scowled, grey eyes narrowing dangerously, yet he made no move to redraw his wand.

"Guess what? I just did."

When it came to her, Draco just could not seem to uncork the bottle of fury he knew resided within him. He felt oddly at ease, as though they were bantering back in Fourth Year and not caught in the midst of a deathly battle.

"Aren't you girls supposed to be happy to know you have my love?"

She laughed again, sounding genuinely entertained this time, her eyes shining through the pain and grief in them. "What have you been dating? Gnomes?" She dropped her wand-hand to her side, wiping away the tears pooling at her eyes.

He was puzzled. Why did she always prove all his theories wrong? During the years they were together, she had proved that Mudbloods were capable of leaving Purebloods in complete awe. She had shown him time and again that Mudbloods were deserving of respect. She made him feel emotions even Purebloods could not have ignited in him. She was evidence that those friggin' Mudbloods were able to make him smile and give him the calm missing in his life.

"Well, do you love me, Malfoy?"

Draco was about to repeat his answer but the words caught in his throat. Maybe it was the sheer determination reflected in her hazels that held his words back. He did not know. An evil smirk crept up his lips as he convinced himself of the right thing to say. "Are you kidding me? What makes you think I'll ever feel something for a filthy little Mudblood," he spat out, blonde bangs falling over his conflicted eyes.

"So that's a no?"

The smirk broadened.

"Say it, then. Say that you don't love me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"_I do not love you._"

There, he said it. That was not as difficult as he had expected. Lying was second nature to him after all. Wait, _was that a lie_?

Letting cruel poison spill from his cut lips was pure ease. But what was difficult, what was really painful, was to watch her struggle to not crumble in pain before him.

She let out another humourless laugh; its pitch too high to be natural – a feeble attempt to mask her spiralling emotions. Her head was still held high as she glared him down, but the uncanny shine in her eyes and the slight tremor in her stance gave her away. It was her pride, Draco knew. He had seen it too many times before whenever they had their mundane disagreements. She refused to show weakness in front of him even to the end. Foolish Gryffindor pride.

Taking advantage of the momentary falter in her composure, Draco took another step forward, infringing into her personal space. With one swift motion, he snatched her wand out from her slackened grip. He saw the surprise in her eyes as they grew wide, acknowledging him as a threat for the first time tonight. Her right arm stretched out to try to reclaim her weapon, but Draco's free hand gently smoothed over a cut above her left eye, the contact causing her to flinch. Her right arm froze in its path towards his raised one, now landing somewhere near his right shoulder, stunned. Draco's left hand busied itself with the cut near her brow, rubbing soothing touches over it. As much as she did not want to, her body could not resist leaning into his familiar touch, remembering the warmth and comfort it used to bring. His gentle action finally coaxed fresh uncontrollable tears from her hazel orbs. She had lost.

"Did you ever love me?" she whispered, almost desperate, dropping her gaze away from his face, her confidence shattered. Her right hand tightened its grip on his shoulder, feeling the soft fabric of his robes wrinkle under her fingers.

She let out a choked sob, clutching onto Draco for support. His left hand slid down her face to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his steel eyes. A crooked finger tenderly traced an escaped tear up her cheek back to its source before gently thumbing the pooling liquid away. He had won, but where was the sweet taste of victory?

Draco gave a small smile, this time void of any cruelty. Their faces were so close; she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. "Tonight might be your last night alive and that's the only thing on your mind? _Do I love you?_" Foolish things they were –girls.

She stared right back into his eyes with a new-found determination and gave a small but firm nod. His smile broadened, amused, revealing neat rows of polished teeth.

Draco opened his mouth to say something but the sound of frantic footsteps distracted him. A jet of light the colour of death sailed across the room and Draco reacted before she could, pushing her to the floor and throwing his body protectively over her.

She let out a groan as his weight fell atop her, her heart racing wildly in her chest. Instincts kicked in and she grabbed her wand from Draco's open palm and fired a curse at her attacker. Only when the threat was neutralised did she realise how cold and rigid Draco felt.

Hermione had finally gotten her answer.

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**A/N:** Found this half-written in an old notebook and finally decided to finish it. I swear it's at least 4 years old… I don't even remember what the original plot was supposed to be. (facepalm)

Do feel free to point out and errors/typos. Reviews are always much appreciated! Thank you!


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